


Two Weddings and an Apocalypse

by LittleTime



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angels Being Assholes (Good Omens), Angst and Humor, Crowley is a big softie, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flashbacks, Gabriel is a himbo, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Michael Is So Done, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Other, Unecessarily Complex Plan, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Wedding Planning, You've read enough "they pretend they're dating" fics you know exactly where this is going, everyone is horny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 08:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19970773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleTime/pseuds/LittleTime
Summary: After 6000 years of pining, Crowley and Aziraphale are getting married. And while the loving couple is very happy, Heaven and Hell are not.Still trying to catch and punish the traitors, the head offices conjure up a plan to lure them: a wedding between leaders of the two factions. And while Beelzebub and Gabriel might not like each other, they do like the idea of bringing their rebellious underlings to justice. The only thing they have to do is convince them that they are very much in love and totally not faking an engagement.But when Heaven starts planning a new war and feelings come to the surface, who knows what awaits them?





	Two Weddings and an Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> A crack idea that turned into an actual fic. My writing tumblr is little-time-ao3, you can send me asks and prompts there.

At first, Crowley had sworn to himself that he wasn't going to rush things. It had taken 6000 years to get Aziraphale to have dinner with him at his flat, and he wasn't going to ruin this by going too fast for the angel. No, he had planned on making a nice homemade meal using as little magic as possible, putting on some classical music CDs, setting the lights to a romantic but still respectable ambience and opening up a nice bottle of wine. Then he just had to repeat this until around the 5th date, where he would consider going for a kiss. He thought his whole process while knowing that one false step and he would send Aziraphale flying off like a startled pigeon.

But the world never worked according to Crowley's plans. 

Aziraphale had arrived half an hour earlier, while he was still getting dinner ready. Despite Crowley's requests for him to sit down, Aziraphale had insisted on helping him in the kitchen. So then they were side by side, chopping vegetables as a song played on the radio. They were talking, and then laughing. And their elbows were touching, they were looking at each other, and now it was their noses that were touching. And all they could think about was that they had been waiting for 6000 years, fearing and doubting, waiting for a Great War that didn't come, and now they were standing in a kitchen that Crowley had never even used before. They could just be.

When their lips touched, it didn't feel like the simple kiss it was. It felt like a dam that been threatening to break for years finally spilling, causing a tsunami that washed away any doubts they could have about what they were doing. 

For the first time, neither of them had to stop himself. And so they didn't. Their Universe was confined to Crowley's kitchen, to hands that rose up to get tangled in clothing and hair, lips that tasted like that apple in the Garden must have tasted like, and the feeling of the cold marble countertop pressing against the small of Crowley's back as Aziraphale slowly pressed him against a corner. Everything else faded away, smoke on the wind. 

"Angel..." Said Crowley, tentatively pulling away. "Do you want to..."

"Oh, right." Aziraphale cleared his throat. "The kitchen is no place to do, uh, this."

"Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

Needless to say, they completely forgot about dinner.

The next morning they got dressed and decided to have breakfast at a lovely cafe near the flat. There they sat by a window, ordered crepes and coffee (Crowley felt an actual desire to eat for the first time in centuries), and came to the conclusion that they were done waiting. 6000 years was a lot, even for immortals beings.

Two months later, most of Crowley's belongings were in Aziraphale's bookstore. Soon after that, Aziraphale got himself a proper bed, made for two people to sleep comfortably in, and rumours started swirling that there was a giant snake set loose inside Mr. Fell's bookshop. The already small number of clients had decreased even more after that, which gave Aziraphale plenty of time to read while a very pleased Crowley spread himself across his lap. Things were good.

A year into their relationship (and a few weeks after the Apocawasnt's first anniversary), they had decided to share the good news with their friends. Newt and Anathema had already visited London a few times, but the Them were there for the first time, having convinced their parents to let them stay a weekend at an aunt's house. It should be noted that none of them had aunts in London, but as soon as Adam suggested the plan his parents had had a vivid memory of a nice elderly lady who was related to them somehow. Which meant that they were all staying with Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy, even though Crowley considered himself to be a much better babysitter.

That was how they ended up in St. James' Park in early fall, sharing a picnic. Both angel and demon had had their fair share of banquets and feasts, and yet this felt much better. Almost like having a family. 

If there was a good moment to tell everyone the good news, it was then.

"Everyone." Aziraphale had raised his hands, making it clear that he wanted to make an announcement. It took a full minute for everyone to shut up. "As you may know, Crowley and I have known each other for... well, basically since the dawn of time. But all those years we spent in each other's company, no matter how marvellous, were always tainted by the thought that our feelings for each other were forbidden. Most of my existence has been tainted by fear. Fear of Falling, fear of losing everything dear to me. Fear of the Apocalypse. But now, thanks to you, I can finally breathe." The others stared at him, still not getting what the point of that speech was. "Oh, I'll just cut to the chase. Crowley and I are finally together!"

There was a second of strange silence. Anathema seemed like she was trying to solve a very difficult equation. Newt also looked confused, but that was just a dead giveaway with him.

"What do you mean finally?" She asked, now looking like she was doubting everything she had ever known. "I thought you were already together."

"We've only been dating for around a year." Said Crowley. Madame Tracy was staring at him like he had grown a second head.

"But what about the longing stares?!" She asked. "The pet names?!"

"I believe you humans call that pining."

"So let me get this straight." Adam clasped his hands together, staring at his godparents like he was an investigator conducting an interrogation. "You're... not married?"

"I'm afraid not." Said Aziraphale. Adam sat back, obviously disappointed. "But marriage is a very serious topic, young man."

"Yeah, I know." Adam did not, in fact, know a lot about marriages. He knew that two people got together, threw a party with a lot of white and then moved in together, but besides that, he only had a vague idea. "But you guys _act_ married. Why don't just throw the party and make it official?"

"He's right!" Brian chimed in. "You kind of act like my grandparents, ya know?"

"Excuse me?" Asked Crowley. He tried not to feel offended by this pre-teen, but this was crossing a line. Was he seriously comparing them to grandparents? Sure, they were almost as old as time, but they didn't look like it. Even if Aziraphale dressed like he had robbed a clearance rack from the 19th century.

"You look like you sit in rocking chairs watching TV and drinking tea. And bicker a lot." Said Wensleydale, who also kind of thought of Adam's godparents as an old married couple but had the good sense of not calling them grandparents to their faces. "You also look like you invite other couples to do things but really the only thing you want to do is judge them."

Aziraphale and Crowley traded a look. He wasn't exactly wrong, though they did not own any rocking chairs. And they did enjoy judging people together, though Aziraphale was a lot more polite than Crowley. But you didn't have to be married to do those things. They'd been doing those things for millennia.

"Heh, marriage was constructed by the patriarchy, anyway." Said Pepper, putting a rock on the subject. Everyone quickly found more interesting things to discuss, and the two supernatural entities were left in their own corner, trying not to stare at each other too much.

They only talked about it much later, when Crowley was stopping the Bentley in front of the bookstore. It was now almost completely dark, so the only thing Crowley could see was the faint shine of Aziraphale's pale curls. The car was standing still, but neither of them had moved to leave it.

"What the kids said really got me thinking." Started Crowley, who already felt like wacking himself in the head. He had promised himself he wouldn't go too fast too soon, but now the words were just leaving his mouth like that. "Do you think that..."

"That Wensleydale is right." Said Aziraphale. He had a little trouble memorizing the names of all of Adam's friends, even though they were just three, but he liked the boy with glasses. He reminded him of himself, if Aziraphale had been a child instead of springing into the Universe fully formed. "Think about it, dear, it's not a bad idea. It would fit perfectly into our lives!"

"Y-Ya think?" _I can't believe this is happening_. He thought. _I didn't even have to plan it!_ "I never expected you to be on board with this."

"I actually always thought about it, you know? I looked around and felt like something was missing." Aziraphale looked far too calm for someone who was making such an important life decision. Meanwhile, Crowley was desperately trying to channel that smoothness himself and failing miserably. He was now on the verge of babbling. "We should do it tomorrow! I know this wonderful place here in Soho, the most amazing things. We could even get some nice china for when we have guests."

The words "nice china" were like a bucket of cold water on Crowley's head. If his brain was a computer, it would have chosen that moment to stop working. Something was definitely not making sense there.

"What wonderful place?" He asked, suddenly understanding that Aziraphale was talking about something that definitely wasn't marriage.

"This small antique store squished in a corner. You must have seen it." Aziraphale opened the door, already making his way towards the bookstore. "Young Wensleydale gave us a truly fantastic idea, don't you think? The rocking chairs will fit right into the living room."

"Rocking chairs." Crowley suddenly felt the urge to find Wensleydale and pay him a good amount of money to never open his mouth in front of Aziraphale ever again, something he had also considered doing to the rest of the Them. "Right."

The next day, Aziraphale and Crowley completed another milestone as a couple: they bought furniture together. Two rocking chairs, a set of flower-patterned china teacups, and a new wardrobe for their room. Crowley had spotted two vintage golden rings on the storefront and had to resist the urge to grab one of them and ask Aziraphale to put him out of his misery right then and there. 

_Nice and easy, Crowley._ He told himself as he miracled the wardrobe to somehow fit in the trunk of the Bentley. _Don't rush it._

Still, it was hard not to think about it. The kids were right. What were they even waiting for? Another Apocalypse?

He started planning that very same week. There were many factors to take into account, but he finally settled for a nice early Autumn evening. It would be chilly, but the sky would be mostly clear of clouds (you could never really get rid of those in London) and there would be stars out, at least as many as the light pollution allowed. It was the perfect night, or at least it would be once Crowley was done organizing the best dinner date ever. And Aziraphale, innocent, lovely angel that he was, had no idea of what he was planning.

"Oh dear." He said as Crowley led him into an empty Ritz. "It seems like we're the only people here!"

"Well, there's also the servers." Said Crowley, leading Aziraphale to their table, right in the centre of the room. He wasn't an idiot. He had made sure to bring the staff into his plan, and they had been delighted to help. And with some bribery and blackmail (and a miracle or two), everyone with a reservation to the Ritz that night had had to deal with very urgent matters. Leaving only one table, decorated with flowers and lit candles, occupied. "Do you want some champagne, angel?" 

"That would be lovely, inde-" Before Aziraphale could finish talking, a waitress was already next to them, holding a bottle of the best champagne in the restaurant. 

"Here you go, sirs." She said, giving Crowley a discreet nod. The servers were working like a well-oiled machine, and Crowley couldn't be prouder. 

"So, angel." Crowley smiled, handing Aziraphale a menu. "What will you be having?"

"Ah, you know. The usual." If Crowley had been in a usual state of mind, he would have noticed that Aziraphale sounded far too nonchalant. Instead, he hid his face behind his own menu as he smirked. Aziraphale had no idea. He was the smartest demon in Creation.

"Well, I feel like this is not going to a normal night." He said, flipping through the pages as he tried to look relaxed. "So why don't we try something new?"

"Dear, I don't believe there's anything on this menu we haven't tried at least once. It would be hard to surprise you."

"Yes, but I'm sure I'll find something that'll take your breath away." A waiter approached them, ready to take their orders. He winked at Crowley as he walked away.

Dinner was lovely, as usual. Crowley suspected it was impossible not to enjoy himself while out with Aziraphale. Though he was beginning to worry about his angel. There was something off about him, although he couldn't quite place his finger on it.

He seemed dodgy, for a start. Giving him sly looks when he thought he wasn't watching. Crowley had even caught him smirking once or twice.

Plus, he was eating like a vacuum cleaner. Even the waiting staff seemed worried. Aziraphale usually took a full minute just to savour a single bite, but now he was just stuffing food into his mouth. If Crowley didn't know any better, he would have thought Aziraphale wanted to finish dinner as soon as possible.

He was actually starting to feel a little nervous. He had expected to have at least three hours to run his speech over again, just to make sure he hadn't made any grammatical errors. He had made about fifty versions of the same speech, and he still wasn't satisfied. 

Still, the hour he had been waiting for arrived. The same waitress who had brought them the champagne approached the table again.

"Will you want dessert, sirs?"

Crowley smiled. This was the part of the plan that they had rehearsed to perfection. They were only seconds away from the big moment.

"You know what, I feel like having some angel cake." The waitress nodded. All she had to do now was fetch the ring that Crowley had left there earlier and deliver it to Aziraphale with a flourish. With a slice of angel cake, of course. Crowley knew the man he was marrying. "What about you, angel?"

Then Aziraphale said the last thing Crowley expected to hear from him:

"I feel quite full, dear, I don't think I have room for dessert."

Crowley turned pale. The waitress had to stop herself from gasping. Miles away, Anathema Device felt what could only be described as the witchcraft equivalent of a great disturbance in the Force. Adam Young shot up from his sleep, drenched in cold sweat. Something wasn't right in the Universe.

"B-But you always want dessert!" Said Crowley, his cool quickly slipping away. It should be noted that Crowley didn't have a lot of cool to start with, so this was turning into a dire situation. "Can't I... tempt you?"

"No temptations, dear, sorry." The angel smiled at the waitress. "We'd like the check, please."

"S-Sure, sirs." The young woman gave Crowley a panicked look and quickly slipped away. The demon looked inquisitively at Aziraphale.

"I know that this is impossible, but are you sick?" He asked. Aziraphale just laughed.

"No, no, dear. I'm just feeling a little bothered. Do you mind if we go for a walk before we go home?" He hid a smug smile behind his hand. "Maybe St. James' park."

Still worried, Crowley nodded.

"Yeah, no problem. Let me just go pay the bill." He left Aziraphale sitting at the table and rushed towards the very confused waitress who waited for him there. "Change of plans. I need the ring."

"Of course." She couldn't help but look disappointed as she handed him the simple golden ring he had gotten for Aziraphale. Crowley sighed.

"Don't worry. You're all still invited to the wedding."

He payed the bill and opened the door for Aziraphale. In a matter of seconds, they were back in the Bentley.

The staff of the Ritz watched the car fade into the night, and no one could stop themselves from letting out a sad sigh.

"Well, that's a shame." Sighed a cook. "I had my camera ready. I was going to hang a picture of the proposal on a wall."

"Mr. Crowley said we're still invited to the wedding." Said the waitress that had waited on the couple. The waiters of the Ritz had been fighting over who would get to serve them that night ever since Mr. Crowley had approached them with his plan. She had considered herself the luckiest woman in London when she'd won the small lottery they had held. "I just hope he still goes ahead with the plan. Even if he doesn't have us to help him."

"Ah, he'll manage."

Back in the Bentley, Crowley wasn't managing anything. At all.

Aziraphale was sitting with his hands on his lap, looking as pleased as a cat who had gotten the cream. He even hummed along Old Fashioned Lover Boy, which proved that he had no idea that Crowley was about to have an aneurysm and that the Bentley was an asshole that liked to watch its master suffer. Meanwhile, Crowley was sweating like a fountain, the ring almost burning on his jacket's inside pocket. 

"Park here, dear." Said Aziraphale, even though they were still a few streets away from the park. "I feel like walking."

Crowley sighed. He didn't understand why they were here, in the cold London streets, instead of declaring their eternal love over dessert at the Ritz, but he had never denied Aziraphale anything, and he wasn't going to start now. So he opened the door and let the autumn chills bite him. 

"Any reason why you want to come here at night?" He asked as Aziraphale linked their arms together and started the walk towards the park. It still felt strange holding each other in public, like walking in a dream. It was almost enough to make Crowley forget the cold. 

"I've been coming here a lot." Said Aziraphale, smiling up at him. "To think, you now. About how things have been since... I think our sides are calling it a failed Apocalypse. But I don't think there was any failure. Things are going just as they were supposed to be."

"Oh, definitely." Crowley almost bit off his tongue, silently grieving the time and effort he had put into planning the perfect proposal.

"I'm serious. You may mock me, dear, but when I say that I wouldn't do it any differently, I mean it." Crowley didn't protest. When Aziraphale said he was serious about something, it was better to believe him. "Sure, it was 6000 years of torture. Having the one you love right in front of you and not being able to do anything about it. And yet, weren't those years proof enough that we belong together?"

"You're beginning to sound like a love song, angel." He laughed. "But yeah, I don't believe anyone else would have been able to wait for this long. One time Hastur cried for ten days when Beelzebub sent Ligur on a mission alone. I'd like to see him wait for 6000 years."

Aziraphale cringed at the mention of the demons' names. Still, he kept a steady pace. They were reaching the park's gates now. 

"I'm glad we waited this long." He couldn't let his voice falter now. "Through the hardships and the fights. And the almost end of times. Because now I feel like every day we spend together is a gift. We have fought enough to deserve to spend the rest of our existences with each other, at home." 

There was not a living soul in the park, except for the ducks, which Crowley suspected didn't even have souls. But even with the little devils' present, he couldn't deny it was a beautiful night. The stars were shining as brightly as diamonds, the full moon gave everything a silver shine. He stopped, turning his eyes upwards.

"That's strange. I could swear it was a crescent moon when we left home."

"You must have not been paying attention, dear." Hurriedly said Aziraphale, walking a few steps in front of him. If Crowley had been facing him, he would have seen that he had an incredibly smug expression. "Why don't you come and sit under this tree with me?"

Crowley stopped, examining the tree. Despite them being Autumn, it still retained most of its' leaves, even if they had turned orange and red. 

It wasn't like he had planned. But the one thing Crowley had learned was that things very rarely went according to plan. So he let his hand slide up to his coat's pocket and grabbed the ring. He had left the house to propose to Aziraphale, and he would be twice damned if he went back without doing it.

"Angel, I need to tell you something."

Aziraphale tensed up. Had Crowley understood where he was going with this? Was he going to say no?

"Is it something bad?"

"I don't know." Crowley tried to swallow but found that his throat was dry. "Depends on what you say next."

"Well, then allow me to tell you something." Aziraphale let himself fall into the bench as graciously as his shaking legs allowed him. He patted the seat next to him and grabbed Crowley's hands between his own when he sat. "When you took me to that antique store to buy furniture... it was the simplest thing we've ever done together. No world-saving, no greater plan. Just a loving couple trying to add something lovely to their home. And I remember standing there, trying to decide between two different sets of china, and thinking that it's a miracle of its own that we can do these little human things like move in together and decorate our living room. 

"Angel-"

"Please, let me finish. One day I told you that you went too fast for me." His fingers tightened over Crowley's. "Until very recently, I had only known what it was like to wait and hope in vain. But if you say yes, you will make me the happiest man-shaped being in existence."

"Azira-"

"Anthony J Crowley, will you marry me?"

The blood rushed out of Crowley's face, and for a terrifying moment, Aziraphale felt like the biggest fool alive. The one time he had decided to take the first step, to come up with the crazy scheme, was the one time Crowley didn't want it. 

He wouldn't be able to face him after this. The ride back home would be unbearable, he'd probably have to jump out of the moving car at one point or another. He had to get away from London, close down the bookshop, find somewhere else to stay. He was sure Gabriel would let him back into Heaven if he told him this humiliating story. After he was done laughing, obviously. Or maybe he'd throw him into another pillar of hellfire, which would probably be less painful than this rejection he was facing.

Crowley slowly unhooked his hands from Aziraphale's, making the angel's stomach drop so low it almost landed in Hell. But then he showed him his palm, where a plain gold ring rested. 

"I was... I was going to..." 

It was then that it clicked on Aziraphale's head. The empty Ritz, the strange stares, the weird giggling (not that Crowley had noticed that he had spent the entire dinner giggling to himself). They had been to busy preparing the perfect engagement that they hadn't even noticed that the other was making plans. It was enough to make them double down from laughter.

But the truth was that neither of them wanted to laugh. What they wanted to do was grab each other by the lapels and pull each other into the deepest kiss of their lives.

Which was exactly what they did.

After more than 6000 years, an almost Apocalypse and the slow burn to end all slow burns, Aziraphale and Crowley were getting married. The more they spent with their lips pressed together, the quicker the thought sank in. They were doing this. They were finally doing this.

They could have stood there, just kissing, forever. Days could come, with the passer-bys watching them until night fell again. The world could come crashing down and they wouldn't even notice. Until Aziraphale gently pulled away, delicately touching Crowley's cheek.

"Dear?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Will you finally tell me what the J stands for?"

* * *

Gabriel was not particularly connected to his corporeal form. He took good care of it, sure, but he treated it kind of like a responsible driver would take care of a car. He didn't feel anything about it, and in return, it gave him no feelings or discomforts. Until now.

After several months of meetings and brainstorming with the other archangels, Gabriel was venturing into the magic world of leg cramps and headaches. And Michael wasn't really helping with the last one.

"It seems that another choir of angels have risen in protest." She said, putting her phone down. It was the fourth uprising they had to deal with since the failed Apocalypse. "It's not a full-fledged revolt, but it will become one if we don't squash it immediately."

"Alright, then." Gabriel clapped his hands, trying to look chipper. It utterly failed. "Now, any ideas to raise morale? Sandalphon?" 

"Well, there's always The Sound of Music." Mused the angel, who only knew one morale-raising tool in Heaven. "We have a special DVD with director's commentary just for occasions like these."

Uriel groaned, cursing the day Raphael had decided to take a "quick vacation" and leave Sandalphon behind. That had been almost 3000 years before, and they still had no news from their brother. Most people in Heaven didn't comment on it anymore.

Michael strode towards the window, looking down on thousands of angels. There was no way to tell how many of them were still blindly loyal to the Almighty. Or to them, for that matter.

"We are far beyond the point where The Sound of Music can help us." She said. "What we need is the Apocalypse everyone was promised."

"But the traitors and the Antichrist made it clear that they don't want out interference on Earth!" Said Gabriel. Michael scoffed at him.

"Please, don't tell me you're afraid of Aziraphale, his demon lover and a _child_."

"I'm not afraid of Aziraphale! Or his little band of misfits!" This was a lie, partially. No, Gabriel wasn't afraid of Aziraphale, even though the whole Hellfire incident had left its mark. But he knew that, if led to it, Aziraphale was very much capable of doing something that would make him Gabriel's biggest nightmare. "But they stopped the Apocalypse once. We can't try again without getting rid of them."

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Michael cursed internally. They always came back to the same subject, even if they didn't want to. How to get rid of a rebellious Antichrist and a pair of turncoats. "What do we do with Aziraphale and his little pet demon?"

Uriel and Sandalphon immediately raised their hands.

"No, we're not going to beat them up." Said Gabriel. "They survived the very same weapons designed to kill them, your fists are not going to do anything."

"No, but a crowbar might."

Michael took in a sharp inhale of breath. She had never yelled at her siblings, only raised her voice to let them know when they overstepping the limits of their stupidity. 

She had always been high strung, but since the cock-up that was the Armageddon, she just felt like screaming. All the time. Which was not very gracious and completely unthinkable for an archangel. So she settled for deep breaths and balling her hands into fists until her nails dug into her palms. 

"Let's make a deal, shall we?" She gave them a forced smile. "Get someone close enough to the traitors to reveal how they escaped their executions and then I'll let you beat them with a crowbar. Sounds good?"

The other angels didn't say anything. They stood in silence for a few minutes, each of them pondering. But before any of them could say anything, the plasma they kept on the wall for long-distance video calls came to life. This was usually used by angels who were on particularly difficult assignments, but they didn't have anyone stationed on Earth at the moment. The only thing they could see were blurred figures in a murky background. 

"Gree-Mannon, izz thizz thing even working?" A buzzing voice came through to them, sounding almost like static. There were hushed whispers outside of their view until the image finally focused, allowing them to see a dark chamber. Gathered around a long table were the seven Princes of Hell, each looking more ridiculous than the last. Beelzebub, face covered in boils and fly resting on their head, had taken the seat at the head of the table, Dagon behind them. "Greetingzz, angelzz."

"Lord Beelzebub." Michael sounded more impressed than surprised. Impressed because this was probably the first time that a computer was brought into Hell. Ligur had been sending telegrams well until the beginning of the 21st century. Lord Beelzebub themself still sent most of their written communication on a piece of papyrus. If the demons were adopting video chatting then Hell was probably going through some rough changes. "What do we owe this for?"

Beelzebub looked around the other Princes, hoping that one of them would talk. They were all making a fine point of looking menacing but silent, leaving the hard work to the fly-headed demon.

"There'zz no point in pretending anymore." They whispered, barely audible to the angels. Then they resumed their usual commanding tone. "Reportzz of the Principality'zz failed execution have reached Hell. And you probably know that the serpent'zz trial didn't go as expected."

"That's one way to put it." Whispered Sandalphon, earning a laugh from Gabriel. Beelzebub shot him a poisonous look but refrained from making a comment about Heaven's own disaster of an execution.

"Azz I was saying." They snarled. "We came to two conclusionzz. One, the traitorzz should not go unpunished. Two, and it painzz me to say thizz, but this needzz to be a... coordinated effort between our two sidezz. Especially given the recent developmentzz."

"Recent developments?" Asked Uriel, eyebrows raised. 

"The traitorzz are getting married." 

There was a second of stunned silence. And then Uriel hit her fist on the table.

"I knew it!" She yelled. "They're... They're..."

"Whenever I think Aziraphale has reached rock bottom, he grabs a shovel and starts digging." Sighed Gabriel, rubbing his temples. "Why, in Heaven's good name, would they do something like that? It's ridiculous!"

"No need to tell me." Scoffed Beelzebub. "Thizz little prank hazz gone on for too long. They need to be stopped." 

"And you want our help coming up with a plan." Said Uriel, tilting her head and leaning back in her chair. Beelzebub gave her an arrogant look.

"We already devised a plan. Which izz the only reason we're contacting you in the first place." Beelzebub sighed and paused, eyes closed. Some could say that they looked like someone who was about to eat a live frog. Except Beelzebub had done that several times and it was a lot less painful than what they were about to do. "We thought that it would be an act of poetic justice to host a wedding. Between an angel and a demon."

"A wedding?" Repeated Sandalphon. Surely the sulphur was getting to the demons' brains if they were having ideas like these.

"Not an actual wedding. A fake one." Dagon chimed in, even though she wasn't a Prince of Hell. Being Beelzebub's right hand came with some privileges, and the actual Princes were too busy staring at their claws to be of any use. "We need to capture the demon Crowley, but he spots all of our spies. And I suspect you're having the same problem with Aziraphale."

Michael grunted, not really wanted to tell her that every angel that had been sent to try and keep an eye on Aziraphale had been invited over for tea and then told, in a very, _very_ clear manner, that unspeakable things would happen to them if they tried to come back. Now they was running out of angels willing to spy on the Principality.

"What we had in mind wazz a fake wedding between our sidezz. If they think we accept their relationship, they'll let their guard down." The ludicrous plan sounded even more ridiculous in Beelzebub's monotone voice. It was obvious that they were the least on board with the idea. "They need to think that we don't care about their little affair. If they feel safe, then they'll be vulnerable."

"And you actually think this is going to work?" Asked Uriel, who was still incredulous. She looked around her siblings, but Sandalphon was the only one who looked as horrified as her. Gabriel seemed a little confused. And Michael had her trademarked scheming face, the gears of her brain turning at the speed of light.

"They're right." She said, nodding curtly. It felt strange to agree with an agent of Hell, and it was a crazy plan. Maybe just crazy enough to work. "We tried to take them by force, and they stroke back. But this wedding would be the perfect occasion to try and get into their good graces, learn their weaknesses. And when they least expect it..."

"We grab them and torture them until they learn their lesson." Dagon finished the sentence with a smirk. "If we play our cards right, we may even be able to find out how they survived the hellfire and the holy water."

Uriel snapped her head towards her sister.

"Michael, this is too dangerous. I want to punish them as much as you do, but this is..."

"Heaven's image would be ruined!" Gabriel almost yelled. "No self-respecting angel would put themselves on an altar with a demon!"

"You think I'm happy about thizz?" Asked Beelzebub. "Asmodeuzz wazz the one who suggested it."

"I just said that I too would like to try and get my hands on an angel." A tall man dressed in red leather from head to toe spoke up, rolling his eyes. "And then Leviathan pointed out that it was unfair that the serpent was the only one of us who got to bend the rules like that."

"Lord Lucifer would never allow us to throw away our duties to go around gallivanting with an angel." A creature that looked a cross between a woman and an octopus huffed in her seat. Ignoring that, she looked like every suburban mom that had ever asked to see a manager. "Then Mannon came up with the rest of the plan."

All the other demons had the ounce of decency to look at least slightly ashamed by this scheme. The only exception was a green-skinned demon sitting to Beelzebub's right. He was completely covered in jewellery, to the point that only his smug little face was visible.

"Ah, I don't want to take all the credit for it myself." He said, smiling. "Except that I do. It's my plan and it's brilliant."

"You seem to have this whole thing thought-out." Michael snapped her fingers, making a ledge of all of Heaven's active angels appear on the table. "I'm sure we can find an agent trust-worthy enough."

"Oh, please." Leviathan let out a scoff. "This cannot be trusted to bottom-feeders."

"This will have to include at least one higher-up. One of you or one of uzz." Beelzebub made a gesture towards the other demons. "Asmodeuzz hazz already volunteered himself."

The demon of lust leaned over the table and shot the camera a wink. He then proceeded to mimic a series of very graphic movements that implied things that shouldn't even be physically possible, which won him a series of disgusted looks. None more disgusted than those of the angels, who were considering washing their eyes with a mixture of holy water and bleach. 

"For Heaven's sake, anyone but _him_." Said Gabriel, squirming in his seat. "Actually, all of you look ridiculous."

There was a series of grunts and offended noises from the other side of the screen.

"You angels are all the same." Belphegor rolled his eyes. "Just because you're all clean and smell nice... well, you're no better than us."

"You probably can't even find an angel that would please us anyway." Huffed Leviathan. "Or one that could pull off a plan as complex as this."

Uriel and Sandalphon traded a look, understanding instantly that the demons were placing the ball in their court. The number of higher-ups in Heaven was significantly lower than Hell's, and when you went for big names it shortened up considerably, which meant that they were safe. Sandalphon wasn't even an archangel and Uriel lived mostly in the shadow of her siblings, so they were both out of the question. This left only two candidates.

Silence fell over the room. Michael and Gabriel had never really fought per se. They threw jabs at each other, in good siblings fashion, and talked shit about each other behind their backs, in good coworker's fashion. But this wasn't about who would get to lead a battalion or get the better seat at a meeting. This was a marriage with a demon. True or false, it would be a wound on any angel's pride. Uriel and Sandalphon sat back and waited for the storm to start.

"Well, the choice seems pretty obvious." Said Gabriel, turning towards Michael. "You're the only one who had backchannels. The only one with contact with a demon in the last 6000 years. It'll be more believable if we tell them that you fell in love with a demon. Don't you guys think I'm right?"

_Please don't bring us into this._ Thought Uriel, subtly averting her gaze.

"It makes sense." Whispered Sandalphon, suddenly feeling a lot less strong in front of Michael's terrifying stare and regretting even opening his mouth. Lesser angels and demons had gotten discorporated just from that stare. 

Michael gritted her teeth, cursing the day Gabriel had been brought into existence. But if he thought she was just going to let him push her towards some greasy demon he was very wrong. It had been her to cast Lucifer from Heaven, and her hand hadn't even trembled as she held him by the throat. If there was one thing Michael knew, it was how to throw her siblings under the bus. Or into a never-ending abyss. Whichever metaphor worked best.

She pressed her lips, thinking of all the ways she could corner Gabriel. It shouldn't be too hard, he was as dumb as he was pretty. And she knew exactly what she had to do to get him where she wanted.

"Say, Gabriel, didn't you know an angel who fell once?" She asked, perfectly innocent. Only things were never perfectly innocent with Michael. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said, making a very big show of shrugging and looking confused. His sister moved closer, like a shark feeling the first drops of blood in the water.

"This cherub, you were awfully close. Short, moody, auburn hair. You grieved for almost a millennia when they fell. What was their name again?"

Gabriel swallowed uncomfortably. He hadn't said that name in 6000 years, he didn't even know if they were alive. But everyone was staring at him, waiting for an answer.

"Ba'al." He replied sheepishly.

"Ba'al." Repeated Michael, rolling the syllables in a way that she knew was making Gabriel squirm. She turned back towards the screen. "Tell me, is the former angel Ba'al still in your ranks?"

"Well, that'zz not their name anymore." Beelzebub had turned the colour of curdled milk. "Obviously."

"I see, I see." Gabriel's eyes were pleading now, but she didn't care. He had been the one to make the first move. And now she was going to end him. "Now, we all know these traitors are the romantic kind. So I want you to imagine with me how they will react when they hear this story. Two lovers are torn apart by a bloody war, the first war ever. And they know they can't be together now, since they are destined to fight. But how can they kill each other when the only thing they want is to hold the love of their life again?"

"Michael, that's enough."

"No, no, I'm not finished." She was starting to enjoy herself now. Finally, all those years of having to use purple prose were paying off. "But then the unthinkable happens. This war that they had been planning for so long... It doesn't happen. So they rush straight into each other's arms, inspired by the rebellion of another angel and demon."

"Oh, that's perfect." Said Asmodeus. "All that yearning. All that lust."

"And we would certainly be playing with their pride." Said Mammon. "Which we all know is the Morningstar's favourite sin."

They turned their heads towards Beelzebub, who was sitting as still as a statue.

"There must be someone else." They said, but this wasn't their usual tone. Their voice was almost gone. Michael wondered if Beelzebub had something special with this Ba'al Gabriel had been so obsessed about.

"Well, this marriage needs to include at least one higher-up. Gabriel is the only one of us with a connection to a demon. So if any of you Princes of Hell have some torrid love affair with an angel you'd like to share to share, now would be nice." The demons stayed silent. "Then it's settled. Can you please bring the demon Ba'al into the room?"

"That... that won't be necessary." Gabriel got up. "I don't need to see them."

"He'zz right." Beelzebub clicked their tongue and dragged their chair away from the table, also getting up. "He doesn't need to see them anymore."

Without another word, Beelzebub walked away from the camera and out of the room. The door slammed loudly behind them.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Asmodeus was the first to start laughing, followed by the other demons. Even Uriel had to stifle a laugh as if dawned on her. Sandalphon was next, and he hid his face behind a few papers in front of him so Gabriel wouldn't see his face.

"Oh, this is hilarious." Said Leviathan as Dagon followed after Beelzebub. "Best thing I've seen in eons."

"What's so funny?!" Asked Gabriel, but he was left hanging as the screen suddenly blackened and Hell ended their call.

The groom-to-be seemed to be the last one to get the joke. But when he did, he turned as pale as paper.

"Michael..." Gabriel seemed like a man who had seen a ghost. But since they regularly dealt with human souls, this was probably the wrong comparison. "What have you done?"

"I'll tell you what I've done. I've ensured the Apocalypse actually starts." She smiled at the other archangels. "Hell has one major problem. Do you know what that is?"

"The smell?" Suggested Sandalphon. 

"Yes, but that doesn't concern us." Michael's nose scrunched, still remembering that horrible stench. "Demons fell because of a failed rebellion against a being that cannot be reached, nevermind killed or deposed. They bring havoc on earth just because they can. They rushed to the Apocalypse even though it's obvious that we're going to win and they're going to die. Hell is short-sighted. That's their problem. Do you see where I'm getting here?"

The other three nodded wisely.

"No." Admitted Uriel. Michael sighed. Being the smart sibling could be exhausting sometimes.

"Their whole goal with this is to capture the traitors. They'll have all their higher ups there, too focused on the torture to worry about us." A wicked, very non-angelic smile spread across her face. "But we are thinking on the long run, my friends. And while they are busy torturing the traitors, we pull out our swords and slaughter them all."

Gabriel leaned forward.

"So you're saying that..."

"Yes. This isn't going to be a wedding. This is going to be the Great War we've been all waiting for."


End file.
